


you lost your leg in a bar fight?

by ntkrrs



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntkrrs/pseuds/ntkrrs
Summary: This is dumb. He’s supposed to be at home, on his bed, watching Whose Line reruns with his cat Toothless or sleeping or something less boring and butt-numbing than sitting on this chair at three in the damned morning.Now expanded.
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this sometime ago, but still pretty proud of it. enjoy!
> 
> unbeta'd.

The lights of the room are sharp and unforgiving, shining on the equally painful linoleum of the emergency room floor. It’s quiet here at three in the morning, aside from the rhythmic beeps of machinery, the dull sound of the evangelist on the TV (because what else would be playing at this hour?) and the occasional flurry of voices whenever something important comes up. Hiccup yawns. 

There’s a guy at the end of the hall is nursing his arm, which looks pretty beat up and angled kind of awkwardly. It seems like something akin to a motorcycle accident, but he can’t be too sure from this far. Hiccup is nursing pretty much nothing, aside from a few scratches on his arms and a sore jaw from a drunken smack and the beginnings of what feels to be a nasty bruise on his back. That must’ve been when he smacked into the bar earlier. Despite it, he knows he doesn’t have a war story, not like the other guy with too much blood on his shirt. Or the guy they just wheeled in, who Hiccup doesn’t even look at. It smells of disinfectant and some sort of grave mistake.

The red-haired boy is staring at a passionate evangelist on TV, not really hearing whatever God’s message is today or something. He just wants to go home, dammit.

The desolate blue-grey chairs are propped up against the wall and he’s sitting on one close to the middle, because both ends are too cold. Whoever built this hospital has a shitty sense of air conditioning placement.

This is dumb. He’s supposed to be at home, on his bed, watching _Whose Line_ reruns with his cat Toothless or sleeping or something less boring and butt-numbing than sitting on this chair at three in the damned morning.

The televangelist is spewing something about opportunities and doors and knocking and Hiccup would like to say out loud that he should be at home and not here, but before he can embarrass himself in front of the hospital staff at almost half past three in the morning, a blonde girl shuffles through the ER doors and to the triage, speaking in hushed tones. She’s lightly battered and bruised, a cut on her cheek and some scratches on her arms. She’s in a party outfit—tight black dress baring her shoulders and heels in one hand. Her bare feet squeak as she walks.

The triage nurse says something and the girl nods, sitting down at the waiting area that also has shitty air conditioning placement. Hiccup watches her cross and uncross her legs, obviously cold. He fidgets in his seat in the hopes of getting her to understand that the hospital has really shitty air conditioning placement, and his spot is prime for keeping warm.

She sees the movement and nonchalantly stands and walks over. Hiccup realizes that she’s plenty pretty. He watches her hand that’s holding her shoes—bruised knuckles. She sits two chairs away and stopped crossing and uncrossing her legs now, and he notices that her legs are muscular. Track, maybe?

"Stop staring," he hears, and his eyes flicker up to see a very angry, yet extremely pretty, girl.

"Sorry," Hiccup squeaks, and looks away. He regrets it, because there’s not much else to look at, unless nurses running around is fun to watch (which it was, but that was like, two hours ago). It’s back to linoleum and now some old cartoon that he vaguely remembers watching when he was eight rerun on TV. Minutes later, he decides this isn’t worth it.

"So," he starts awkwardly, and the girl glares again. Is it normal to be really pretty but also really angry at the same time? He doesn’t think it’s logical, but she’s pulling it off. "What are you in for?"

"None of your business," she snaps, fingers curling as if suddenly aware. Her bruised knuckles whiten for the briefest moment and she snatches her hand away to hide the marks, like a child who didn’t want to share her new toys. Her eyes drift downward to give him a once over and widen almost imperceptibly at his prosthetic leg. Hiccup takes the chance. 

"I got my leg cut off," he says in what he hopes is a nonchalant tone. “It was a pretty nasty bar fight.”

“You lost your _leg_ in a _bar fight_?” The girl practically gapes.

“Oh, no. No. That’s from a car accident.” Hiccup shrugs and laughs awkwardly. “But it would make for a pretty great story.”

The blonde presses her lips together and tries to force out a scowl, but the smile is way too slippery. She laughs, a short sound that sounds friendly enough.

Minutes pass again and some old football game that Hiccup could care less about is now playing on the waiting room TV, when she speaks again. “So what’s your story?”

“Huh?” Hiccup asks, as eloquently as ever.

“I mean, why are you here?” The girl put her heels on the empty chair next to her and folds her arms across her chest. “What’s your story?” 

“Oh, uh,” Hiccup starts, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, I was out with friends, and my cousin got really drunk and then he turned pale, almost kinda bluish… Anyway, we tried to rush him here like… an hour or two ago, but he didn’t want to leave—he literally started throwing a tantrum and smacked me around a bit. When he knocked out we called an ambulance.” Hiccup looks down at the scraps on his arm and scratched one. “Exciting, huh?” 

“You look like you fell down some stairs, at worst.”

Hiccup sighs and flashes her a wry grin. “Better than nothing.” He eyes her knuckles and lightly bruised shoulders, the scratches on her arm and finally, the cut on her cheek. “You?”

“Some guy tried to feel me up,” she says with a shrug.

Hiccup frowns. “Are you okay?” he asks out of genuine concern. 

The girl smirks. “Don’t ask me. _I’m_ not the one with the broken arm.”

Hiccup stares at her smug smile and the corner of his lip twitches until he’s grinning at her. “Nice,” he says, utterly impressed. The blonde shrugs with such nonchalance, like it was no big deal at all, but the look on her face tells him that she is very pleased with herself.

The conversation simply fades away into silence, and Hiccup turns away to look back at the TV. A touchdown sounds off from the TV and Hiccup stares at it a bit, but he realizes life is too short for this, so he turns back to her. She’s fidgeting a lot, and he blinks.

“Hey—” he asks, “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine,” she says, but her teeth chatter and betray her words. Hiccup shrugs off his jacket and hands it to her. She shakes her head, so he scoots one chair closer and leans over to drape the jacket over her shoulders. For all her protesting, she seemed to sink into the jacket. She gives him a glance that could be called shy. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” One side of the jacket jingles when she slips her arms into the sleeves. “Ah, yeah. Motorcycle keys. Just be careful.” The blonde nods and he mulls the thought over before deciding to extend a hand toward her. “I’m Hiccup.”

She eyes his hand and then his face with a look of apprehension, but she reaches out and shakes his hand anyway. “Astrid.”

A woman in blue scrubs comes out of nowhere with a clipboard and a smile. “Mr. Hiccup Haddock?” she calls out into the waiting room, and Hiccup stands. The nurse walks over to him. “Hi. I’m Heather, ah…” she leafs through the papers a bit, “Snotlout Jorgenson’s nurse. I take it you’re the cousin?” 

Hiccup nods and looks back at Astrid, who nods in reply. He turns away to listen to the brunette. “Snotlout’s fine,” she went on, flipping through her clipboard, “but he’s unconscious right now. If it’s okay with you, we’d like to keep him for another 48 hours just to monitor him. You can leave if you want; I’ll just give you his room number.”

Hiccup nods. “Yeah, sure. Um, do you need my contact details or something?” 

The nurse nods, that smile still on her face, motioning for him to come follow. He follows her over to the counter while she explains technical stuff—most of which Hiccup could care less about, because finally, he can get to go home. He gives the nurse his number and she gives him the number of Snot’s room, and sooner than later he’s jogging back into the ER waiting area with a huge smile on his face. 

Astrid just finishes talking to a nurse when she spots him and walks over. “You’re clear?”

“Yeah, I’m going to go home and sleep. _Finally_.” The sky outside is bordering on pale, and Astrid takes off the jacket and hands it over.

“Thanks,” she says sincerely.

Hiccup takes the jacket gratefully. “You’re welcome. You’re staying?”

“Yeah, I’m going to check if I got a concussion. I doubt someone got a lucky punch in, but I’m double checking to be sure.” 

The corners of Hiccup’s mouth curl downwards. “Wait, I thought you said someone tried to take advantage of you.” 

“Yeah, he had friends—nothing I couldn’t handle. All I got out of it was a concussion, and the rest of them broke at least one bone in their body.” Astrid shrugs. “It was kind of boring, really. It’s only fun if you get a scar out of it.”

“Yeah, pain,” Hiccup responds dryly, “Love it.”

Astrid smiles. She’s really very pretty—almost dangerous, Hiccup thinks poetically. She looks great even at a little past four in the morning with harsh lights and linoleum tiles. He probably looks horrible. 

“I’m fine. I promise.” She fidgets slightly, and he realizes that she’s swearing her heels now. She probably only reaches his eyes without them. “Hey.” 

His eyes slide up to meet her sharp blue ones, and wow, she was even prettier up close. 

“Thanks for… that.” She gestures to the jacket.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” is all he says, and a sliver of annoyance ghosts over her face. 

All of a sudden, she’s stepping forward and grabbing the front of his shirt, yanking him closer. She pecks his cheek in the slightest and steps away, blushing. “It was nice meeting you,” she says at last, before turning and walking further into the ER. She disappears through a pair of doors and Hiccup is left, completely dumbfounded.

The TV is now blaring early morning news, and the sky outside is a pinkish white by the time Hiccup gathers his senses. He shakes his head and slips on the jacket, turning to leave. He steps out of the ER and runs a hand over his face as he walks. Lack of sleep has _definitely_ gotten to him. There was virtually no way that a practical stranger-slash-really pretty girl like Astrid actually… no. Yeah. No way. He couldn’t even get a date in _high school_.

Yeah, no.

He shakes his head and slips his hand into his jacket pocket to pick out the keys to his motorcycle. He pulls his hand out a slip of paper catches onto the keys. It’s probably an old receipt; he should throw it out—

Hiccup’s eyes catch on to something stark against— _there_ , at the back of the shiny side with faded words, solid black against the white and dim print, written over the creases of the long-forgotten paper.

 _Astrid Hofferson_ , it reads in messy cursive, elegant yet serious, with a number below the name.


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently i had a part 2 tucked away somewhere.
> 
> enjoy!

**Astrid Hofferson** just now   
_R u at Mess Hall?_

Hiccup’s eyebrows shoot up once he fully processes what’s written on his screen. He types back quickly.

_Yeah. You here?_

“Hiccup!” Snotlout practically roars, slamming a jug of beer on the table in front of him. It sloshes over the sides and Hiccup stretches his arm out to keep his phone at a safe distance. “Drink up, cousin! You gotta keep up with me!”

“I had two already,” Hiccup defends, bring his phone back.

“This is the best beer in the city! You’ll never have enough!”

“Snotlout, you were hospitalized _just_ _two weeks ago_ for a mild case of alcohol poisoning,” he says dryly, making his cousin turn red in the face. Their friends laugh around the table.

“Yeah, dude,” says Thuggory, a buff man with dark hair, nudging Snotlout’s shoulder with his own. “I have a video of you being all blue on my phone!”

“No way! Let me see!” cries a tall, thin blond, known to everyone as Tuffnut, practically diving over Snotlout to get to his friend’s phone. Fishlegs, a rather rotund blond boy, grabs the back of Tuffnut’s shirt and yanks him back down.

“Guys, can we _not_ try to get kicked out this time?” he whines nervously. “We’re, like, banned from half of the bars in the city.”

“ _They’re_ banned,” Hiccup says, staring pointedly at Tuffnut and Snotlout seated between him, Thuggory trying to swat away Tuff’s bony elbow while Fishlegs shakes his head from the other end of the booth. “You, me, and Thuggory, on the other hand, are free to drink wherever we want.”

“But you’re not a huge drinker,” Fishlegs points out, narrowly dodging an elbow to the face.

“Neither are you. And yet, we find ourselves here.”

The phone buzzes in Hiccup’s hand and his eyes dart to it automatically.

**Astrid Hofferson** just now   
_That’s u in the booth right? Im comin over_

The corner of Hiccup’s lips twitches up in half-excitement and half-nervousness. Before he’d knocked out that Saturday morning post-ER incident, he’d collected the courage to send his name to the number she’d scribbled unto the shabby receipt in the pocket of his jacket. She’d replied ten hours later, after taking what she claimed was a long nap.

They haven’t really been texting, what with his day jobs as a Physics teaching assistant at the local university and a part-time motorcycle mechanic, and her own goings on (which he’d found out was taking a Master’s Degree in Psychology at the university in the next town above being a swimming instructor). They’d check in, or say something short like _Oh hey btw how do u swim w ur leg? Not being offensive just curious_ (her) or _Did you know that bananas are actually BERRIES? Who knew right?_ (him) or something like _HAHA ur so weird_ (her).

“You okay, Hic?” Fishlegs asks. “You fazed out a little there, buddy.”

Hiccup snaps to. “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted.” A head of blonde hair flashes in his peripheral vision and he turns his head to look.

The Mess Hall was a gastro pub known for being the best brewery in the city, and its kept that reputation alive for around fifty years. They’d never killed their trademark beer and pub atmosphere, but they’d managed to keep up with the current trends as they sprouted as the times went on, like a dance floor, and a DJ booth. But over all, they had kept the interior the same—woodsy, plush, and enough light to make things attractively dim.

Which was currently working in Astrid’s favor.

The dim orange light glints off her hair, making it look soft to the touch, and the pale skin of her strong arms was left bare, looking smooth under the light. Her all black ensemble makes her legs go on for miles. Hospital lights were much less forgiving, and she looks like a goddess among mortals in this pitiful bar.

“Astrid,” he calls unintentionally, only wanting to try her name on his tongue, but he says it a little too loud and she waves.

“Hey!” she leans down to say in his ear—the DJ was kind of too loud—placing a small peck on his cheek, but misses her goal about two inches lower and kisses his jaw. The skin on his neck feels hot, and if the boys noticed anything, none of them were particularly interested in pointing it out. “Sorry I haven’t really been replying—kinda busy.”

“No problem,” he says, but it’s drowned out by a smack on the table.

“Holy,” Snotlout starts, staring at Astrid with something sticky in his gaze, “ _Shit._ ” He accidentally drops his mug on the table and it spills over Tuffnut once it tips over.

“ _Dude_!” Tuffnut yells, shoving Snot. “What the _fuck!”_

Hiccup stands and gingerly wraps an arm around Astrid’s waist—something in Snotlout’s eyes wasn’t making him comfortable—and pulls her close. He turns back to his friends. “Guys—Astrid. Astrid—this is Fishlegs, Thuggory, Tuffnut, and Snotlout.”

Astrid doesn’t pull away from his grip, but waves anyway. “Hi.” To him, she says, “I know Tuffnut.” 

Hiccup blinks in surprise. “You do?”

“I’m a friend of his sister’s—I met him once, but he was so shitfaced I don’t think he remembers anything.”

“Nice to meet you,” Fishlegs says, extending a hand. Astrid gives it a firm shake, doing the same with Thuggory. She pointedly avoids interacting with Tuff and Snot.

As Snotlout begins to stand, Hiccup darts his eyes to Thuggory. A brief flash of understanding came between them, and the larger boy accidentally-on-purpose crosses his legs. Snotlout jumps and curses, loud enough for people at the next booth to look over. He curls into himself.

“Whoops! Sorry, man,” Thuggory says, not sounding sorry at all. “My leg fell asleep.”

Snotlout is visibly trying to voice out the words. “ _You piece of shit_ —”

“We should go,” Hiccup says lowly, steering her away from Snotlout’s howls of pain. Without giving Astrid a chance to answer, he calls his goodbyes to Fish and Thug and walks out of the pub.

The street is illuminated with bright headlights and street lamps, stark against the dark sky. Store displays spill light unto the pavement in windows, casting shadows beneath their feet. The weather is appropriately warm out, with spring just crossing over into summer. Hiccup lets her go as soon as they step out the door.

Astrid gives him a look. “What was that about?”

Hiccup isn’t entirely sure, so he just shrugs. “Snotlout’s the cousin who got into a fight. You know, before, when we met.” He gently takes her wrist and moves them aside when he realizes their blocking the way.

Astrid lets him, understanding dawning on her face, before it crumples into something offensive. “I could’ve handled it.”

“Oh, no doubt about that,” Hiccup points out, remembering her bruised knuckles and the heels in her hand. “I’m much more comfortable not dragging you into that kind of situation in the first place.”

She stops and sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re doing it again.”

Hiccup blinks. “Huh?”

“Like. At the hospital, when I gave you back the jacket, and—and you’re just… I don’t know.” She shrugs, almost shyly. “You’re not trying to take advantage of the situation.”

“Should I be?” Hiccup asks without thinking, brow furrows. When she blushes and looks away, something clicks in his head. He frowns. “Wait. Are you saying—”

Before he gets to finish, a tiny girl with wild blonde hair and beautifully bronzed skin teetering on heels bursts out of the bar. A tall blonde leggy woman follows her out and grabs her elbow before she could topple over.

“Astrid!” the girl cries as her companion pulls her back from being road kill on the busy street in front of them.

“Fucking _hell_ , Cami!” the leggy blonde cries out.

“Cami, Jesus,” Astrid breathes, reaching out for her friend.

“I lost you in there!” Cami wails, scurrying over to give Astrid a quick hug.

“It was getting kinda crowded.” Astrid’s eyes dart to Hiccup and back. “Cami, this is Hiccup. Hiccup, Camicazi.”

“Hi,” Hiccup says politely, reaching a hand. Cami grabs him into another hug.

“Hello, Astrid’s friend!” she says quite loudly, and the familiar-looking woman—now holding Cami’s hand—huffs.

“She’s so hammered, dude. I’m kinda miffed.”

Astrid rolls her eyes. “She’s been here since six. It’s—” she checks her phone. “Holy shit. It’s midnight already?” She shoots a hopeful look at the woman. “Please make sure she gets home okay.”

The blonde’s nostrils flare at that. “ _Me?_ Why—”

“ _Ruff_.” They communicate silently, something Hiccup couldn’t make out in the choice lighting of the street, but the blonde sighs.

“Ugh, _fine_. I’m on it.” The woman comes closer and tries to pry Cami off of Hiccup. “Come on, Cami. Time to go. It’s almost your bedtime.”

“Oh, Ruff!” she says, letting go of Hiccup and turning around. “Have you met Hiccup? He’s a friend of Astrid’s!”

“Nice to meet you, Hiccup,” Ruff says gruffly, reaching his hand out for a shake. He’s trying to recognize her features, because he’s sure to have seen them before… “I’m Ruffnut.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Recognition clicks in his head, and his hands pause the shake. “Wait. Are you by any chance related to Tuffnut Thornston?”

Ruffnut snorts in a way that is scarily uncanny to her brother’s. “Yeah, he’s my twin brother. Unfortunately.”

A smile twitches his way unto Hiccup’s face. He could see the familial similarities clear as day. “Small world. He’s a friend of mine—he was in there with me, actually.” He gestures to the pub.

Ruffnut, despite her obvious irritation, smirks. “In that case, I’d better leave.” She wraps an arm around Cami’s waist. “Come on, you little shit. Time to head home.”

“Don’t call me a little shit!” Cami complains loudly, but followed her friend anyway. “Bye, Astrid! Bye, Hiccup!”

Astrid shakes her head when they’re finally out of earshot. “They’re nuts.”

“Your friends?”

She smirks. “The best.“ Astrid walks ahead and Hiccup follows, falling into step next to her.

“So,” he starts, trying to jump back into their original flow of conversation. “How’ve you been?”

“Why do you ask?” she answers back smoothly.

“I don’t know. Last time I met you, you said you broke someone’s arm. My safety relies on your temperament, I think,” he rallies, making her smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” she teased, “’Cause that’s what I do, break arms when I feel like ‘em.”

“I don’t know what you do in your spare time,” he jokes.

Astrid waves him off. “I don’t just randomly attack strange men and break their arms. That would be unethical.”

“Oh, a code of ethics. It makes me feel safer.”

Astrid’s smirk evolves into a full-blown grin and she laughs. “You’re funny.”

“Are my jokes the only thing keeping me alive?” he teases further, and she lightly bumps his shoulder with her own.

“Maybe. Maybe if I stop laughing, I’ll go on a rampage.”

They pass under a street lamp, the white light turning her hair into the color of the sun and her eyes into the sky. He pauses underneath it. “Hey.”

Astrid turns around with a smile, a few paces ahead of him. “Yeah?”

They’re in a much more somber part of the street, where the nightlife isn’t as busy. A few shops still open, lighting the sidewalk, but they were primarily guided by the street lamps. The noise of the bar is a little behind them, just a faint buzz of incoherent chatter. The leaves of the trees trailing the street rustle peacefully around them, the whisper of the breeze a comfort. Out here, where it’s much quieter, Hiccup feels his heart hitch in his throat.

He tries to come up with better words, but maybe being honest is the way to go. “This is nice,” he finally says. 

Astrid presses her lips together, the light thuds of her heeled boots below her dark jeans getting louder as she drew closer. Their eyes meet. “It is, isn’t it?”

They just stare at each other. Hiccup is the first to look away.

“Do you wanna head back?” he finally says, looking back at where they came from. “It’s getting late. How are you getting home?”

Astrid shrugs. “Cab, I guess. That’s how I got here.”

Hiccup frowns. “Hey, no. It’s late, and I’d much rather you get home safer than just a cab.”

He’s expecting her to retaliate, fire back with some insult about how she can handle herself. But when none comes, he looks at her. She’s just staring at him.

“So how do you suggest I get home?” she asks calmly.

Hiccup licks his lips. “I could—I could bring you home.” At her expression, Hiccup panics. “I-I mean— _take_ you home, like drive you to—to _your_ place. But if you’re not comfortable with that,” he rambles quickly, “It’s no problem. I can—we can—I can drop you off at the cab, instead of you just—just heading out alone. Just so—so I’m pretty much—You know. So. So you’re safe. So I know you’re safe.”

Astrid stares long enough to make Hiccup _just_ squirm, not hyperventilate. “Wow. You’re really like that, huh?”

He wants to ask _What? Like what?_ but she’s already in front of him, reaching to place her hands around his nape and pull him closer. Their lips touch and he presses in, wrapping an arm around her waist and slowly, carefully dragging her closer to him. It’s awkward and messy, and yet she opens her mouth against his, taking more, feeling more, and under the harsh light of the lamp above them, Hiccup just surrenders to the sun and the sky.

She pulls away for the briefest of moments to whisper, “I’m not used to being treated like a lady,” and suddenly, he gets what being _like that_ is all about.

He does it right this time, an arm around the waist and one on her nape, to try and show her what kind of treatment she deserves. Not that he’s done much in the way of this department, but he figures he knows the basics and lets her lead the way. When their teeth awkwardly bump when he twists his head weird, Astrid laughs against his mouth and pulls away. Hiccup feels how heavy she’s breathing against his chest.

“Astrid.” He starts to apologize for his inexperience, but she leans in for one more kiss before retreating, taking a step back. She’s pink, endearingly so, and Hiccup almost chokes as soon as he hears the words that come out of her mouth.

“Well?” she says, a sly smile on her lips and a blush on her cheeks. “Aren’t you going to take me home?”


End file.
